The Nightie
by GeekLoveFan
Summary: It was very green, like her eyes.  It was very silky, like her skin.  And it was very nearly nonexistent, like his restraint.  PWP...be warned.


**A/N: This is for the ever-lovely Weasley's Revenge, who first posed this idea to me. It was supposed to be a birthday present, but I failed massively at getting it written on time, so it is now a "strep throat" present, to cheer her up. **** So…if you're up for a little PWP, this would be for you. **

Leroy Jethro Gibbs clenched his jaw as his lover emerged from her bathroom, skin still glistening from her bath. He slowly lowered the newspaper he was reading as he lounged on her bed, and very deliberately removed his reading glasses as he stared. He placed the glasses on the bedside table without averting his eyes from hers, and allowed the newspaper to slip carelessly to the floor. He swallowed hard as he pushed himself up on one elbow, and he felt himself harden as he realized her nipples were already erect.

This was a nightie he'd never seen before.

It was very green, like her eyes. It was very silky, like her skin. And it was very nearly nonexistent, like his restraint.

"Damn, Jen," he muttered appreciatively as she stood provocatively in the doorway of her bathroom.

She gave him a triumphant smirk as she began to move—oh, so slowly—toward the bed, and then she murmured, "See something you like?"

He only raised an eyebrow as she reached the bed and proceeded to boldly straddle him. He gripped her hips firmly with his fingers and took his time appreciating her attire. The ensemble consisted of nothing more than a flimsy camisole and a barely-there thong, but it covered just enough to leave him dying for more. It was thin, allowing the shape of her nipples to show through the silk, and the almost-nonexistent spaghetti straps set her dainty shoulders off to utter perfection.

She was magnificent.

"You know, Jethro, you _do_ have options other than simply staring at me," she hinted as he simply grasped her hips tightly.

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured without looking into her eyes. "Just admiring the view," he elaborated as he slowly slid his hands up her ribcage. Jenny's eyes fluttered shut at his ministrations and, almost on cue, her head dropped back as he rubbed his thumbs over the thin material covering her nipples.

"Mmmm," she hummed quietly, gently grinding her hips against his. Damn, he wanted to take the hint, but he knew it would be oh-so-worth-it if he drew it out, just a little. He reached up to take her face in his hands and drew her down to him, pressing his lips firmly but gently against hers. He bucked up against her, just slightly, as he allowed his tongue to enter her mouth and duel with hers. She sucked at him eagerly, licking his lips and gripping his neck with her elegant hands.

She moved her mouth to get at his earlobes—damn, she knew what brought him to his knees—and he retaliated by reaching under the thin camisole to roll her nipples between his calloused fingers. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp and a flood of wetness through the thin material that separated them.

'_Screw drawing it out'_ his mind said, and with that he ripped the insubstantial excuse for a camisole over her head and threw it roughly to the side. She breathed out roughly in relief as his lips attacked her nipples, sucking almost violently in his arousal. He knew what she wanted, and bit lightly at her breasts, trying to elicit the guttural moan he knew she would eventually reward him with. When she did, he instinctively sucked harder, and he knew there would be a mark on her in the morning. _'Good,'_ he thought, possessively. At the end of it all, he was a man, and she was his woman, and the age-old possessiveness of the male of the species had yet to be bred out of him. He wanted some mark of him to remain on her, to remind any potential rivals that yes, she was _his_.

"Mmmm, _Jethro_," she murmured, and pushed up off of him. "Allow me," she said silkily, her eyes full of mischief. Slowly…oh, so slowly…she leaned back down on him and kissed her way from his lips, to his neck, to his collarbone, to his nipples, to his abdomen…and finally, trailed her way down until she took him into her mouth. He gasped quietly at the sensation.

Slowly, she stroked him up and down. He watched, down the long line of his body as her breasts moved up and down with the rhythm of her mouth upon him. She sucked long and hard, her sparkling green eyes locking mischievously with his until he couldn't take it any longer, and allowed his eyes to slowly close, enraptured by the sensations she was creating. She continued sucking until—as if by telepathy, maybe, he didn't know—she recognized that he was within seconds of his climax—and she backed off, an evil little smile upon her elegant face.

"You're a bitch, Jen," he murmured in annoyed affection at her, and grinned at the victorious look on her face

"Ohhhh, don't be an ass, Jethro," she purred, loving every minute of it, "You know you love it." With those words, she pushed his shoulders back, shoved her scrap of a thong off, and mounted him without hesitation, allowing her eyes to drift close as she felt him fill her depths. She struggled to contain her own gasps of pleasure as he pervaded her. He flipped her onto her back, easily, never pulling out of her.

Within moments, he was moving against her, and she was responding in kind, grinding her clit against him and beseeching him for '_More, Jethro, God, yes, please, MORE.' _She rarely censored herself when he was fucking her senseless, and this was no exception. God, she was glad she was in her own home as opposed to her office, because when he ravished her like this at work, her sexual satisfaction was always somewhat subdued by the fear that someone, somewhere, somehow, would find them out, and her whole little world would be blown to hell, just like that. God, it was a fine line to walk, but when she was in her own home….yes, it was her own little world, and _yes,_ she was more than happy to allow her lover to ravish her as he wished.

He rammed himself into her, and she wondered, absently, within her own head, what the hell had happened to her tolerance, because damn, he was about to completely _have_ her, and she made a mental note to ask him what the hell he'd been _doing_ lately, for Chrissakes.

She mentally shuddered as he drove into her and she realized that she could no longer hold back; she noted the triumphant look in his eyes as she trembled and began to clench her muscles around him. She sucked in a breath and panted helplessly as he thrust into her again and again, heightening every sensation of her orgasm. It was only as the last waves of her climax were beginning to recede that he gave up his own battle and allowed his body to surrender to hers, pumping her full of his own passion, murmuring gentle words of devotion into her ear.

In the moments following, she rested herself gently against him, relaxed and sated. Jethro pressed his lips to her salty, glistening neck. "You taste mesmerizing," he murmured reverently. A moment passed.

Jen laughed gently, and said, "I take it you approve of the new ensemble, then?"

Jethro lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the camisole, puddled on the floor, and the thong, thrown haphazardly beside it. "Looks good on you. Looks better on the floor," he grunted.

Jen laughed softly and Jethro, already half-asleep, made a mental note to fill her lingerie drawer with all the green it could hold.


End file.
